Wolves and Wings
by skyfallat221b
Summary: The story of how a Winged - Sherlock - and a Wolf - John - met each other through the W&W organisation. (Wing!lock & Wolf!John)
1. Chapter 1 - First meeting

**This is what ended up being a very long adventure on Omegle last summer, rewritten in Fanfiction form. (You'll notice the Omegle back and forth adventuring in the beginning, but I'll try to rewrite it as a fiction best I can with time).**

**It's me and Bloomist (from tumblr) who wrote those in the middle of the night, so only I can only take half the credit.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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It was a strange thing. Of course, it was common that Weres usually got a Winged to look after them. It was protocol. But, he had come home from the war and hadn't been following protocol most of the time, so, he didn't feel all too confident that a stranger assigned to « monitor » him on full moon nights would be something he could or would enjoy. Still. He had gotten a mobile phone number in the file which had been sent to him. A phone number to which he sent a text, sitting on his bed in his empty flat.

_Is this Sherlock Holmes ? - JW_

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While taking care of a small burn on his left wing, Sherlock heard his mobile beep. He had been in the middle of an experiment. He really needed to be more careful, spilling hydrogen on his wing like that. Frowning, he gazed at the device.

_Yes, it is. Who's this ? SH_

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_This is John Watson. I got your number through the W&W Institution. - JW_

The W&W Institution – Wing and Were Institution – was the part of the Government who took care of handling the pairings. They were said to look through files, trying to pair a Winged with a Were through common interests and such, but it was common knowledge that, most of the time, they put each of the W's together at random : too many files to handle.

John hoped, secretly, that this Sherlock fellow had gotten his file sent to him too – sometimes, the W&W didn't even bother to send them out, and blaimed the post for losing them. It had been a scandal when a television show had gone undercover at the W&W Institution to see how things were delt with. Of course, there had been a huge campain to clean up the mess that television documentary had created, but now, everybody knew that the W&W was flawed. But things still kept going on, after all. The system was made that way, and even though there had been a few strikes to protest, they had died out, and the W&W had been able to keep on doing their thing, with no bother.

_You've been assigned as my monitor for the foreseeable future ? - JW_

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_You're my new charge then ? I believe I have your file in here somewhere. SH_

Let's be honest. Sherlock couldn't be half-arsed to look at the file. It was right there, but reading it was boring. The only reason he was in the program in the first place was because his insufferable brother /made/ him do so. He couldn't care less, to be honest. Having a Wolf to take care of. A wolf. The more common name for the Weres', since they did turn into huge wolves. Just as normal humans being called Barebacks rather than Nons'. It was a pejorative word, but he didn't care. They were just wolves, and, mostly, they were idiot brainless dogs with no regard or respect whatsoever for their mentors. The only thing said mentors had to do was to make sure the wolves didn't eat each other, didn't kill other wolves, and didn't mate while they were changed. It was made easier by the accomodations the W&W had made legal and obligatory in most houses.

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_Yes. Can we meet ? - JW_

He had the file. That was something. But, still, he had to be sure his mentor would be a good one. After all, he'd been a soldier, and some Winged would rather avoid having a soldier wolf in their houses – not knowing what the army used the Weres to. He thought, if this Sherlock fellow was going to be the one to look after him on fullmoons and making sure that he didn't eat anybody, he might as well get to know him. Sure, he'd read Sherlock's file – an odd one, they'd paired him with an odd one – but he wanted to get to know him. After all, he was going to place his own body and mind in Sherlock's hands on fullmoons nights. And, he hadn't seen anybody else but the W&W folks and his drunk sister since he had been invalidated home from the Middle East.

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Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock rolled his eyes at the text. He wasn't very keen in leaving home with his experiments half done. But, when he thought of it, he had already ruined this one, and a little air wasn't going to do him any harm, was it ? He finished patching up his wing and waved them a little to get the circulation going.

_Meet me at 7 pm. The address is 22 Northumberland Street. The place is called Angelo's. SH_

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At the lack of immediate answer – as the previous ones had been immediate, or at least very fast – John sighed. Maybe it had been a bad idea. He rolled his shoulders thinking about the meeting to come. Most Weres met their Winged once or twice before their first moon together, and never got to know each other personally. Why did he want to meet this Sherlock Holmes anyway ? It said on his file he was a sociopath. His shoulders were aching from the last full moon : he'd spent it in the cage at the W&W headquarters, since he hadn't gotten a mentor appointed until now. And, that had gone rather poorly, putting a giant wolf in a silver cage.

However, when the answer came, he let out a sigh of relief.

_Perfect. See you then. - JW_

Maybe... Maybe this was a bad idea. He know of people who were good friends with their tutors – Mike Stamford was one of them – some living together, and he'd even met a couple where she was Winged and he was Were, but most of the time, both parts just met those single full moon nights and never spoke in the regular daytime. Some Winged acted as if their Weres were a secret shame, and it even went down to playing a part in a social context. Who was in the W&W programme was a big discussion in television, but stayed mostly taboo in the lower classes.

John looked at his watch and noticed there was an hour to go. He got dressed, and decided to walk to the address Sherlock had given him. He couldn't really afford a taxi, and walking a bit would help him get over the aching in his shoulders.

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**Reviews are more than welcome, and will make the posting of the next chapters faster! (Besides, I still need to rewrite some omegle logs, so yeah..)**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE.**


	2. Chapter 2 - At Angelo's

**It's been a little while since I posted the first chapter now, so here's chapter 2! Hope you enjoy this one! **

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Looking around at the mess in his flat, Sherlock sighed. He gave a try at cleaning it up abit, just un case his charge – no, John Watson – wanted to visit and check on the Wolfing room, although it didn't seem very probable. Because all Winged who were in the W&W tutoring programme had to have an accomodation that could receive the Were when it morphed out.

It was lost in thought that he called Angelo's and reserved them a table before going to his room and changing to something more comfortable. He did his best to tuck his wings close to his body without hurting the injured one too much. Half an hour later, he was leaving home, walking slowly to the restaurant. He knew it was early, but Angelo always had crusty news about the underworld. Mysterious cases that the police never heard about, for one. And, second, he always liked a chat with him before dinner.

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John's back was aching from the previous change – one week earlier. He'd stayed in the little flat the W&W had allowed him, but he hadn't taken care of himself that much. A slight limp was plaguing him, so walking had become quite a challenge. Worst part was that it had appeared after the last mooning, where one of the W&W staff had thought it would calm him down to hit him on the leg, while he was in the cage. According to the rapport that had been made after the mooning, it had been to calm him down. However, when he'd seen the footage, it had been clear that the staff had only tried to infuriate the wolf more – often, military wolves were more aggressive than the civilian ones. A challenge, for some of the W&W staff. But, as usual, since the W&W was working on its own part and with its own rules, he hadn't been able to do anything about it. Any injury sustained during wolf form stayed when he morphed back into his human form.

Pushing the door to the restaurant, he looked around, and spotted the black curly hair he'd seen on the file. Walking up to him, he smiled at the man, putting his hand forward. « I'm John Watson, nice to meet you, » he stated, still smiling. He'd seen this Sherlock's file, and although he didn't seem like a usual person, he thought it couldn't hurt to treat him as if he was a regular nobody.

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Looking up, Sherlock stared at this John for a few seconds. Having not bothered to look at the file, he didn't know what he was like. Standing up, he finally shook the hand given out, firmly. « Sherlock Holmes, pleasure to meet you, » he nodded and gestured to the chair, at which John sat after having gotten his hand back. « Please, make yourself comfortable. »

John bit his lower lip, and smiled shyly back at Sherlock. « It's a... a nice place, » he stated, looking around. He had never been there before. And if he had, he couldn't remember it. He'd been in the Middle East long enough for a few places to have changed hands, but from what he saw, he could see that it was a restaurant which had been there for a while. Maybe he'd just never noticed it.

Angelo approached them, slapping Sherlock's back. A wince came from his lips, since he'd hit the injured wing as if there had been a bullseye on it. « So, Sherlock, I see your date is here. Can I bring you the menus ? » he asked, similing widely. John frowned at the date remark, but Sherlock answered before he could say anything.

« Do you want to order ? » he asked John with a small not, as he moved uncomfortably in his seat, trying to get some distance from the hand and his back. Before John answered, he spoke firmly, « I'm not his date... I'm his... uhm... He's my tutor, » he got out. Weres were less common than wings, and were seen as a 'lower' part of society. Being a wolve was hereditary – he'd always been one and knew what this meant, but he was _not_ Sherlock's date. He smiled weakly at Angelo to ease the tension. « I'll just have the carbonara... » He then looked back at Sherlock who did, after all, not seem too odd. He didn't seem like the sociopathic type.

Angelo smiled widely back at John. « Carbonara it is then. And, I'll bring you a candle, just to help setting the mood, » he smiled again, and walked back to the kitchen. John's jaw dropped at the comment. Hadn't he heard that he wasn't Sherlock's date ? What was it with the candle ? What mood ? Shaking his head, John looked down, whereas Sherlock was, on his side, looking back at him, he trying to identify every single detail. « You need a place to stay, » he stated, quirking an eyebrow.

« Erh, yeah. W&W are paying for a little flat, but it's not... really... nice. It's not really nice, » he said as his gaze turned to Sherlock. « How did you know ? » Oh. Stupid question, he realised. Sherlock had probably read the file the W&W had given him. However, that wasn't the answer that came to him.

« Silver burns on your left arm, » Sherlock said as Angelo came back with the candle, clapping him on the back again, making his teeth clench in pain. « You were on the W&W care all this time. The cage they put you in was obviously too small for you. They assumed that because you are short as a man, you wouldn't be big as a wolf. Obviously, they were wrong, since all male wolves tend to be bigger during the moons, » he shifted uncomfortably, his wing hurting him under his clothing. Damned Angelo. « I'm in need for a flatmate, » he added after a moment. « As soon as I got into the program, my brother made sure to wolf-proof the house, so all the doors and windows are sealed with silver. »

« Oh. » It was all John could manage at Sherlock's answer. Then, he raised his eyebrows, surprised. « Are you... Oh. Well, I... Why not ? » he finally chuckled, before looking at Angelo who had walked away after bringing them the candle. _WHY_ the candle ?!

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and tilted his head head slightly to the side, gazing at John with a curious look. « If you have a problem sharing a flat with one of my kind, please do feel free to turn down the invitation. » He looked up as Angelo came back from the kitchen with the plate and put it in front of John. « Thank you, Angelo, » he smiled, barely dodging the next clap on the back. He was seriously considering cutting the man's hand off and experiment on it. John noticed the lack of a second plate. « Don't you... eat ? » He felt it was a stupid question, but he asked it nonetheless.

Nonchalantly answering the question, Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table and looked out of the window to the moving street outside.

« I never eat while working. I need the brain free to think and digestion slows me down. » John nodded at the answer, thinking it odd, and remembering the flat issue. « And, no... I don't have any problems with sharing a flat with you, » he started, « it just came as a surprise, » he said, gazing up again. And, also, if there was to be a problem, the normal hierarchy would be Wing Bareback Wolf. So, the problem should be from Sherlock's perspective, not the other way around. But he had been the one to make the proposition, so... Why not ?

« So, tell me about you. » Sherlock looked at John again, knowing that everything he needed to know was in the file the W&W had given him. However, he decided to ask nonetheless. John began to eat – he was famished, after all, he had only eaten an apple as breakfast that day – and answered between two mouthfuls : « I was in the army, a doctor, » he said, pausing. Should he say he was sent home because he'd been injured in a moon-fight with a taleban wolf ? Probably not. Still. « Sent home 3 months ago, and here I am, » he said, with a faint smile. He'd seen some of the security footage some of the barebacks had filmed during the encounter, but didn't like thinking back at it. The scars on his chest were enough memories. However, Sherlock's response to his recent life story unsettled him.

« I'd like to take a look at the bite mark on your left shoulder, the one that cause your discharge, » Sherlock said, matter-of-factly. Before continuing, cutting all chances of John saying anything short, « Also, I was working on something today, before you texted me. It's still an initial phase, but if it goes successfully, it might delay the effects of the moon on the wolves. If it goes _really_ good, it might even perserve enough of the man to bring them to reason and keep them from attacking random people. »

John had stopped chewing when Sherlock mentioned the bite mark, and had looked up, swallowing with a little difficulty. He put down his fork, staring at the man opposite him. Was he actually serious about all... this ? « Better than the wolfbane tablets ? » he asked, frowning, not too sure on how to take it. Sherlock furrowed his brows as a response.

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**Again, reviews are absolutely loved and will make the posting faster! I'm still writing from Omegle conversation to fanfiction form, but the reviews keep pushing me to do this faster, so please, let me know what you think of it? **

**Thanks for the reviews, loves! 3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the waiting time, I've been extremely busy with different things, so, here's chapter three! Hope you enjoy it!**

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« What do wolfbane tablets do other than calm the wolf down a bit ? Think of it as a... » he rolled the eyes at the word, but it was the first one that came up to his mind, « … potion. The tablets taste horrible in the first place. With a liquid solution, you can mix it into any drink or food you want for the three days preceding the moon and it will have a stronger effect. The crux of the question is that the wolves would only be listening to one command voice, and that of their mentors. Some don't approve of it, but if you were willing to give it a try... »

John stopped thinking about food almost immediatly. Wolfbane tablets would do that to you if you were a wolf. « Duh, » was the only sound he was able to make, rubbing his hands against his eyes. « Ehm... Why uhm... Why not ? » he shook his head while frowning. « But... I mean, I was in the _army, _» he stated again, « Wolf shifts and everything, » he then said, matter-of-factly, still slightly worried. « Or do they not tell this to civilians ? » he asked, not too sure, gritting his teeth.

« John, I said this is a new project I'm working on. Independent from the government. Not many people know about it. About three or four, including you, » Sherlock said, closing his eyes, his wing burning again, now. He should have stopped being lazy and applied that ointment Mrs. Hudson had given him.

« I do it because I thorougly believe that it will give the wolves some peace of mind during the moons. It's a small independent project, and I'd like to keep it that way. The government likes to have you under their power, to be able to control you. So they throw chocolate tablets at you and that it'll make you feel better, when in the end, it makes no difference. I belive you have just as much right to some freedom as we have, » he shrugged. « Even if in the full moon night, you'll only be linked to your mentor, it's the best I can do. Illegal, yes, definitely. But I know that it will work. »

Silence fell slightly. John looked down, but not at his food. He became distant. Stupid government. He'd thought joining the army would do some good, but instead, he and other wolves were kept as fighting dogs for the fullmoon shifts. Same went for the taleban wolves, but still. It's one thing they didn't mention when you wanted to join. Sure, he worked as a doctor whenever the full moon was far away, but as soon as they morphed into the wolf... They got sent in to do the dirty job. They got sent in to fight other wolves, like dogs fight when they're put in a dog fight. All those scars on his body came from bites and claws. And then, he got sent home because of an injury sustained during one of the moon shifts.

« Alright, » John simply said, looking Sherlock right in the eye. « If you need a test subject... I suppose, I can do that. » He shrugged as well. « I have an army pension, I don't have anything else to do, » he stated. Might as well try to get something out of this situation.

Sherlock's lips quirked in a smile. « Thank you, » he nodded at him. He was doing this for them. To rid them of the strings that the government had tied them with, keeping them low in the civilisational hierarchy. Sherlock sighed. He knew it wasn't common for a Winged to care about the Wolves in general, but he never cared much about his position. He never saw difference between them and the wolves, to be honest. Cut off the wings, eclipse the moon, what were they ? Just two people, as normal as any other... And this wolf repression was seriously getting on his nerves.

« You know... they suppress you because they fear you. Why is my experiment so illegal ? Because if the wolves decide to unite and start a rebellion, you will undoubtedly win. You have more allies than you could ever imagine. » John chuckled at Sherlock's rebellion remark.

He'd begun to play with the pasta in his plate with the fork. « Probably. But we'd kill everybody in our way, too, » he said, pursing his lips. He knew wolves, thus, himself, were killing machines once they were turned on the full moon. Which was why most of them were in the army, or some sort of government police force.

« Not if guided by your mentors, » Sherlock remarked. « Anyway, would you like to see the place ? I'm dying to get out of this jacket. My wing is killing me. »

« Oh, yes, of course, I'm not... really hungry anymore, » John said with a faint smile, happy to get out of there. That damned candle made him nervous. Fire. _He_ was not scared of fire as per see, but wolves were, so he felt uncomfortable around it. Not that it mattered anyway, he'd learnt to live with it. « What happened ? » he inquired, after Sherlock spoke of his wing.

« Chemical burn, » said he with a shrug. He looked back at Angelo and nodded at him in a small goodbye before heading out to the street. He put on his long coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. « The address is 221b Baker Street. It's not far from here, about a five minute walk. »

John smiled at Angelo, hoping that the owner of the restaurant would think of him as Sherlock's _date_. « What chemical ? » he asked, as he trailed behind Sherlock, who was walking quite too fast for him, so he'd started lagging. Five minute walk. More like run. « Can you... » he started, before gaining the strength to ask, « Just slow down a bit ? » his leg aching from the blue mark the silver pipe had left there one week before. Sherlock looked at him and rolled his eyes. « Government bastards, » he hissed, slowing down. Hell, he'd go flying if he could. « Of course, I apologise, » he smiled briefly letting John set their pace. « Several chemicals. You must know that most things that won't hurt wolves will hurt us. I was experimenting and our ladlady – Mrs. Hudson, she's got me a special deal, lovely lady she is – walked in and accidentally made me drop the vial. »

John sighed, relieved, when Sherlock slowed down. « I know, » John said before continuing, « We used some hydrogen peroxyde on some of the Taleban winged, » he stated, matter-of-factly again, before looking back at Sherlock who had winced at the comment, his frame shaking as he imagined the effects. « I could take a look. I mean, I was an army doctor... »

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**I'll try to get you the rest as fast as I possibly can! Promise :) Re-writing Omegle logs in fanfiction form is a bit difficult, so I'll try my best. I promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy (again), with my holiday abroad and everything, so I barely had the time to rewrite more of the Omegle logs into fiction format! I hope you enjoy! :)**

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Sherlock could almost feel the pain just by looking at hydrogen peroxyde. « It's fine, I guess. Not to worry, » but of course that was a lie. He just wasn't keen on showing how much he was hurting. He was just dying to take his clothes off, and spread his wings. He hated being confined like that. John smiled at his answer nonetheless, before looking around. Baker's Street... Left, so he turned left. « Is this Mrs. Hudson a... a... bareback ? » he asked, in order to know how to act around her is he was to meet her. Also, because he wanted a subject change. Sherlock shook his head. « No, she's like me. Her husband was a wolf, she was his mentor and my nanny... » He smiled. « She's more of a mother to me than my Mother will ever be, » he murmured to himself, not really knowing why he had made that comment. « My brother is a bareback. And so is Inspector Lestrade. Expect regular visits from both, specially the latter. »

John nodded at the comment. « Lestrade... Wasn't there something in the papers about him ? » he frowned, before looking up, gold letters on a door indicating 221b. Well, one good thing about this Mrs. Hudson having had a wolf uhsband was that at least she'd know how to act around him. Sherlock answered his question. « He consults me sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean more than it would be considered healthy for someone in the force. He's a Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard, » he slid the door open and gave way to John. « Mrs. Hudson isn't home at the moment. She's at her sister's in Hexham. Your belongings are already upstairs. »

« Alrea- oh, » John started, before realising it didn't matter how his things had gotten there. There had probably been a plot or maybe Sherlock had gotten someone at the W&W to do the moving via a text, or something. « So, you've lived here a while ? » he asked, not knowing whether he should stay downstairs or walk up the stairs.

« Moved in a couple of months ago. The landlord of my last flat was... » Sherlock trailed off, placing his scarf and coat on the hanger by the door. « An acephalous idiot. »

« Oh, » John said again, before taking off his jacket as well, following Sherlock upstairs. He gazed around, noticing the antlers on the wall with headphones on, smiling at the sight of it. He noticed the silver around his windows and on the door frame, pursing his lips. He didn't like the sight of silver, as Winged didn't like certain chemicals. « It's... nice, » he said, as he noticed some of his belongings standing in the living room.

« I wasn't expecting you so soon. I meant to cover the silver on the windows and door frames with stripes of wood. I'll do that tomorrow, it's already too late... Do you mind ? » Sherlock asked with a pained look in his eyes. He needed to get his suit off as soon as possible. « Oh, no, it's okay, it's fine... It's better than jail bars anyway, » John stated. « And, please, please, » he then said, about the jacket and suit, before he went to go through the bags which had been packed by somebody else for him. He found his belongings, the wolfbane tablets he always carried with him, and thought with relief that everything else would probably be there. Sherlock urgently stripped off his suit jacket and shirt, immediately spreading his wings far and wide, almost hitting John in the process. « Sorry, » he murmured with an apologetic look. John had avoided the wing which had suddenly come toward him by ducking under it, and straightened up again afterwards, chuckling. « It's alright. »

He lolled his head back as he flapped his wings the best that he could, the raven-dark feathers shimmering in blue with the change of ligt. « Oh God, that's good, » he whispered, bringing his left wing to sight and frowning. It was bleeding now. It wasn't bleeding when he had patched it up. « Damned Angelo. »

John walked closer to Sherlock, looking at the wound. « Are you... Sure you don't want me to look ? » he asked. But, damn, Sherlock's wings were beautiful. He'd seen white ones, ginger ones, fiery ones, brown, black as ebony, but these were... really, beautiful. Matched Sherlock's hair. As wings usually did.

Sherlock frowned, looking at the wound, and then back at John. Then he gingerly nodded, lips pursed in a somewhat adorable pout. He didn't like to get hurt. It always brought up the child within. « I don't want to trouble you, » but John crossed the short distance between him and the injury in a half second, before smiling at Sherlock's expression. « You're not, I've seen much worse, » he stated as he inspected the wound. Like an acid burn. Hydrogen peroxyde would do that to you. « Should wash it clean before bandaging it with some creme of sorts, aloe vera ? » he asked.

« Mrs. Hudson gave me a pot with some ointment that she uses to her own wings. I guess I could try it out. If she uses it, it's because it's good. The thing is on the kitchen table, » he murmured, flopping down on the couch. His right wing curled over himself as a blanket, the left one stretched on the floor. It was common knowledge that when stretched out, both wings would reach twice the carrier's height. Sherlock was about 185 cm tall, which meant that both wings would reach around 370 cm. It wasn't always an advantage to be that tall.

John had gone to what he'd figured was the kitchen, and gotten the round bottle with the ointment before coming back into the living room. He studied the components and smiled, « It's good, » he stated, before looking at Sherlock. How in the whole wide world could he hide those wings under one jacket ? They were huge ! « Do you want to do it, or should I ? » he asked, putting the ointment down on the table. « Cleaning the wound, etc. » he stated, afterwards a faint smile on his lips. Not that he liked a Winged being wounded, it just made him feel needed. 3 monhts of just waking up, eating and going back to sleep had been boring.

« I can't reach it that well, » Sherlock answered, « You can probably see by the half-arsed patch, » he chuckled. « I would end up making it worse. Mrs. Hudson usually attends to my injuries, so,... » He trailed off. « Besides, you're a doctor. You can't run out of practice, » he smiled, looking at John as the man looked at his wings. « Something wrong ? »

It made John snap out of it. « No, nothing at all, it's just, your wings are _huge_, » he said, turning his back, walking into the kitchen. He poured some hot water from the tap onto a clean towel he found beneath the sink, and made it wet, before coming back into the living room. « Must be the biggest ones I've seen, » he continued, as if he hadn't left for 5 minutes, and bended over the wound, gently pressing down on it with the wet towel.

Sherlock's right wing started fanning himself lightly. He closed his eyes and his lips quirked in a smile. John was as gentle as Mrs. Hudson, maybe even more. « That feels really good, » he murmured, frowning. His wings were probably the most sensitive part of his body and he neglected them more than he should. Mostely because they were almost always in the way. Then, John's comment seemed to have clicked in. « Yes, too big for my liking, but it's not like I can cut them off. »

« It would be a shame to cut them off, » John said, after a few gentle strokes on the wound with the wet towel. He reached for the ointment and got enough out of the little bottle, before applying it gently with his index and his middle finger. He smiled as Sherlock seemed to compliment him. « I've patched enough wings together to know it's your most sensitive part, » John said, remembering that one time where he had been too harsh and the wing had jerket open, hitting him on the brown and opening him up. Better be safe and be gently with it. He fell back, with a look that said 'voilà' before wiping his fingers into the towel.

Sherlock smiled as he looked as his wing. He slowly stretched it, careful not to hit John. He got up, and flapped both his wings experimentally, closing his eyes. « Whatever it is, it numbs that pain. I should buy supply for a year, » he grinned widely at John, one of his rare, genuine smiles. « Thank you. »

John looked up at Sherlock, tilting his head slightly to the side. « You're welcome, » he said, before looking around, and going towards his stuff. He looked around, suddenly having thought of something. « Ehm. Is there someplace specific where I'll have to stay during the fullmoon nights ? » he asked, realising that if he had to change in the living room, he would probably tear it to pieces, silver on the windows and doors or not.


End file.
